Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
Today, with what little extra energy she had, she rested outside the small den she carved for herself and Morte. With some leather cording, string, beads, and feathers from her beloved birds, Widow would use nimble fingers to make feathered bracelets, each feather strung with multiple beads that were sewn with string onto beads that were strung onto the leather cording. Whether she made these for herself or for Medusa had yet to be decided, but Widow found that she quite liked making jewelries and various wearables. Maybe if she were lucky, some other members would like her to make them things. She had little else to do with her time besides raise a child and sit in the tar pits, so may as well spend it crafting things for others.
Code © Skelle | Art © Lila-hyacinth
This new landscape was unfamiliar, but he wasn't particularly concerned about its dangers. The lanky yearling never was, honestly. With Butcher perched between his oversized ears he was able to take some guidance about where to put his feet, but he was more concerned with drinking in the stench of the place. Burning, acrid stink and the underlying sweetness of rot. There was nothing like it that he'd ever encountered, so he was taking the time to savour it. Without the benefit of his sense of smell to help guide him, the wraith was forced to rely more on his hearing. The pads of his paws swept lightly over the ground before he placed them down, and he tipped and tilted his skull to broaden his awareness of the soundscape that formed around him. The tar pits were fascinating, the bubbling of gasses coming up through the molten goo was.. well, he could probably listen to that for hours.
A sharp beak jabbed into the sensitive flesh between his brows, and he yelped softly. "Rude!" he sniped at the devious shrike, shaking his head to banish the lingering pain. The faint sounds of movement in his immediate vicinity became more clear now that he was forced to focus on them. Was this one of the strange prisoners? He didn't get why the leader was keeping slaves, but he didn't care enough to question it. Let her do what she wanted, he wasn't going to bother himself with trivial bullshit. "Hello, hello?" he crooned in that eerie singsong, lilting vocals light and airy as he called out. If it was one of the slaves, they might not be keen to have one of the free roaming members invading on their day. He'd have to go around, and that would be very boring.
Art & Code © Skelle 2022
Someone was approaching though and she was quick to turn her head around and spy the approaching member. He hadn't been a member of Habari, at least, so she could only assume he was an actual friend of Medusa. It hardly mattered though, as long as his mother wasn't Recluse she hardly cared who he was. Though it would be wise to make friends, if anything. One thing was odd about him though, the way he walked seemed oddly familiar. She wondered if he was partially or fully blind, something she didn't struggle with herself but a lot of her dreaded family did. She wasn't sure if that was a bad strike for him or not, but better to be civil.
He called out to her, though she couldn't tell if it was to her or to find out if someone was in fact there. She cleared her throat for a moment before speaking up. "Hello," she responded to him, her voice appearing neutral with a slight friendly tone as she watched.
Code © Skelle | Art © Lila-hyacinth